


An Unassuming Life - Part 2

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Domestic!Dean [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has big plans for the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unassuming Life - Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> I stole a lot of the ideas of Dean leading a “normal life” from episode 2.20 What Is and What Should Never Be (except I kept John Winchester alive).

 

“Dean!” Sam yelled from the patio.

You turned to see your husband jogging across the yard toward the patio and his brother, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. He smiled at you before following Sam into the house. You returned the smile, your heart skipping in your chest. Dean had a way of doing that to you.

“How are things going?” Jess asked, pulling your attention back to her.

“Good,” you shrugged. “Dean is working a lot, sixty or more hours a week. It’s hard, not having him home much. Henry misses him. I don’t know what I’d do without John and Mary’s help. And my parents.”

Jess ran a hand through her gorgeous blonde locks and took a sip from her wine glass. “Trust me, I know,” she said. “Being married to a lawyer is sometimes like not being married at all. Don’t get me wrong, I love Sam and I love that he’s been so successful, but when he’s busy with a case, we never see him.” She glanced at her five year old twins, Adam and Joanna Beth, smiling wistfully. “So, what are you doing for Henry’s third birthday? Any plans yet?”

You put your hand over your eyes and shook your head. “No,” you groaned. “I’m a terrible mother.”

Jess laughed and patted your arm. “Alright, you and I can knock this out in no time. I’m an expert at planning parties.”

She wasn’t lying. She had the party planned and most of the guest list written within half an hour. You were staring at her in awe when Sam and Dean came out the back door of the house, both of them heading directly for the grill, Sam with a huge plate of steaks and hamburgers, Dean with two beers in his hand.

“Daa-aadd-eeee!” Henry screamed, bolting across the yard. He threw himself at his father, attaching himself to one of Dean’s legs, looking up at him with a huge smile on his face. “Come play!”

Dean reached down, scooped the little boy up in one arm, and slung him over his shoulder. He crossed the porch, stopping only long enough to press a kiss to the top of your head before heading down the steps and being immediately tackled by his niece and nephew. He fell to the ground, groaning playfully as all three children clambered all over him.

Jess excused herself, floating gracefully across the patio to stand at her husband’s side. You’d always admired Jess, she always seemed so put together and confident. You wished you could feel that way about yourself. Most days you felt lucky if you were able to get dressed and throw your hair in a ponytail. Life with a three-year-old was crazy, you weren’t sure how your sister-in-law handled twins. 

Sam wrapped an arm around his wife and kissed her temple, then he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh and punch him on the arm. He brandished the spatula in his hand, making her jump back and giggle harder. 

You pushed yourself to your feet and joined Dean and the children on the lawn. Henry took your hand and pulled you into the melee, laughing as Dean tackled you and began tickling you.

* * *

You unlocked the door, holding it open for Dean. He walked past you and directly up the stairs, Henry a dead weight in his arms. His head was resting on his father’s shoulder, his little mouth hanging open and his blonde hair falling in his eyes. He was out cold.

You locked the door behind you and dropped your purse on the floor in the living room. You wandered down the hallway to the kitchen, filled a glass with ice and water from the sink, kicked off your shoes and fell to the couch.

Dean came down a few minutes later, Henry’s backpack in his hand. He sat down next to you, pulled the glass from your hand and took a huge swallow.

“Hey,” you protested halfheartedly. Dean was always stealing your drinks.

He smirked and set the glass on the table, then he wrapped his arm around you, tugging you against his side. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, cupping your cheek in his hand, tilting your head back so he could press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said.

“Okay,” you said hesitantly. Those words only came out of Dean’s mouth when he had something important and life changing to say. You’d heard them twice - the day he’d proposed and the day he’d talked to you about buying your house. You couldn’t imagine what he needed to discuss with you, but you knew it was big.

He pulled Henry’s backpack onto his lap, unzipped it and pulled out a thick manila folder. He held it out to you. “Don’t be angry,” he said. “I talked to Sam about this and he helped me with it. I didn’t want to say anything until it was ready.”

You took the proffered file, but you didn’t open it. “What is this?” you asked.

“It’s a business plan,” Dean answered. “Bobby is selling the shop. He talked to me a couple of weeks ago, wanted to give me the first option to buy. He told me if I could come up with a business plan, he’d vouch for me with the bank. It’s a good plan, Y/N. But it’s a big step for us and the rest of my family, too. Dad and Sam are even willing to invest some money to help. I put the plan together, but I won’t do anything unless you agree one hundred percent.” He put his arm on the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder. “Read it, tell me what you think.”

You settled into the corner of the couch and opened the folder. It was thick, filled with pages and pages of information, most of which you understood, though there was some legalese you weren’t sure of, so you skimmed over it. Dean watched you out of the corner of his eye while he flipped through a magazine he’d picked up off the table. You knew he wasn’t reading it; it was yours, the latest issue of Cosmo, a magazine he had never picked up, not once in the years you’d been married.

When you finished, you closed the folder and tossed it to the table. Dean dropped the magazine to the floor and looked at you questioningly.

“Well?” he asked.

You sat up on your knees, leaned forward, wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him. “I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

“Really?” he smiled uncertainly. “For a while it could mean a lot more hours, crazy hours, until I get the shop running like I want. Sam and Jess will help out with Henry, my parents too. I’ll try to turn it around as quick as I can, baby, I promise, but it’s going to be tough for a while.”

You cupped the back of his neck in your hand, running your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “We’ll figure it out, make it work. I think we can do this.”

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Come here.” 

He pulled you into his arms, falling backward onto the couch so you were stretched out on top of him. His huge hands were splayed across your back, his lips on your neck, his body warm beneath yours. You hummed contentedly and tipped your head to the side, giving your husband better access to his favorite spot to kiss when he wanted to turn you on. 

He chuckled as he rolled you to your side, pressing your back into the couch, sucking and biting at the space just below your jaw, your hands fisted in his t-shirt and your breath catching in your throat. 

“Works every time,” he murmured, his fingers tightening noticeably on your waist.

“Asshole,” you giggled.

“Oh, asshole, huh?” he growled. He yanked your t-shirt over your head and quickly undid your jeans, then he slipped his fingers past the waistband and into your panties, brushing over your soft folds. He pulled down your bra and took your nipple in his mouth, sucking it greedily as he slid two fingers inside you, drawing a gasp out of you at the sudden intrusion.

His lips moved to your mouth, capturing your lips in his, the kiss deepening as he buried his fingers deep in your pussy, the palm of his hand pressing hard against your clit. You were panting and moaning, grinding down on his fingers, pushed right up to the edge in seconds. You could feel it taking you over, wiping out everything else until you were flying, the sensations rolling through you.

“Come for me, baby,” Dean murmured against your lips. “I want to feel you come for me.”

His words pushed you over that edge, just like they always did. You buried your face against his chest, barely muffling your scream of pleasure, every inch of your body tensing and shaking as you were completely overwhelmed by the intensity of the orgasm.

You had just started to come down, a warm and contented feeling washing over you, when Dean pressed his thumb against your clit, caressing it slowly, peppering your neck with tender kisses. Your head fell back, your hips circling as you fucked yourself on his fingers, another climax building before you had even come down from the first. Your vision went black and heat rushed through you, Dean’s name a whispered curse on your lips as you came a second time.

You were spent, gasping for air, your limbs felt deliciously heavy and you could barely move. Dean’s hands roamed over your body, lightly touching you, pulling you into the circle of his arms. He held you close, kissing you tenderly, until you dozed off, surrounded by his warmth and love.

* * *

The first thing you noticed when you came awake was that you were still partially dressed, your bra pulled back into place, but no t-shirt and the button and zipper on your jeans was open, thanks to your husband and the things he’d been doing to you the night before. The second thing you noticed was that you were still on the couch, a blanket thrown over you. And the third thing you noticed was that you were alone. You stretched, wondering where Dean had disappeared to and what time it was.

The smell of coffee filled the house and you heard voices coming from the kitchen. You threw the blanket off and stumbled to your feet, not quite awake. You pulled on your shirt and buttoned your jeans as you padded to the kitchen. Henry and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table, your son with a bowl of cereal and your husband with his usual cup of coffee.

“Mommy!” Henry smiled, milk dribbling down his chin.

Dean chuckled and wiped his son’s chin, stood up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He set his coffee cup on the counter by the sink, then he pulled you into his arms, burying his face against the side of your neck. He slid his nose along your jawline, inhaling deeply.

“I gotta go. Duty calls,” he whispered, kissing the edge of your jaw. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him. “Call me later, if you get a minute.” 

“I will,” he smiled. He held the thick manila folder in his hands. “I’m giving this to Bobby today. I’ll let you know what he says.” He dropped a wink in your direction, then turned to Henry.

“Behave yourself, little man,” he pointed at the boy still eating his cereal.

“Okay, Daddy,” Henry smiled. He waved, his chubby little fingers wiggling.

You spent the majority of the day trying to keep up with Henry while simultaneously trying to do laundry and clean the house. By the time you put him down for a nap just after two - later than usual, he was in a stubborn mood - you were exhausted. But you forced yourself to take a shower and put on a clean dress, then you relaxed with a cup of tea and a couple episodes of your favorite television show. You had just gotten Henry up and you were contemplating starting dinner when there was a soft tap at the back door.

“Hello? Anybody home?” The owner of the voice, Dean’s mother, stepped into the house, a smile on her face. When Mary smiled, her entire face lit up, like the sun shining on a gorgeous spring day. Your mother-in-law was a beautiful woman, gorgeous really, and probably one of the nicest people you had ever met. She’d welcomed you into the Winchester family and treated you like a daughter from the very beginning.

“Gammy!” Henry squealed, struggling to jump out of your arms. You quickly set him down.

“Hi, sweetie,” Mary laughed as the little boy practically bowled her over as he leapt into her arms. She scooped him up and kissed his cheek. “He just wake up?”

“Yep,” you smiled, still surprised to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“Dean called me, asked me if I’d come over and watch Henry,” she explained. “He wants you to meet him at the garage, said it’s important.”

“Um, okay,” you said. “Are you okay with that?” 

“Of course I am,” Mary replied. “We’re going to go meet Aunt Jess and the twins and go to Papa’s softball game.”

“Yay!” Henry cheered.

Mary set him down and patted him on the bottom. “Go get your backpack, munchkin.” She turned to you as Henry ran down the hall. “He can stay at our house tonight, give you and Dean the night off.”

“Are you sure? He’s such a handful,” you said.

“No more than his father was,” Mary laughed. “We’ll be fine, I promise. You go see your husband, find out what he wants. He wouldn’t even tell me.”

“I’m ready Gammy,” Henry called, running back toward his grandmother.

“Tell Mommy goodbye,” Mary instructed.

Your son attached himself to your leg, squeezing hard. You crouched down and gave him a hug and a kiss on his cheek. “Be good, little man,” you said.

“Yes, Mommy,” he grinned. “Bye!” He took his grandmother’s hand and tugged her toward the door. 

Mary laughed and waved, heading out the door with Henry. You watched as she put him in the car seat she kept in her car and drove away. 

You grabbed your keys, ready to find out what was so important that your husband needed to see you alone and right away.

* * *

When you arrived at the garage, the only car parked out front was Dean’s black ‘67 Impala. You parked next to it, then climbed out and headed toward the side entrance, smoothing your skirt as you walked. You pushed open the door and called Dean’s name.

“Back here,” he yelled from the depths of the garage.

Dean was in the back, you could see him standing just inside the small office, his back to you, his phone to his ear. He was wearing his spare set of clothes - dark blue jeans and a brown plaid shirt - that he kept at the shop and you didn’t notice the usual grease and grime that usually coated his body anywhere on him. You hurried past several cars parked in the stalls, all of them in varying stages of repair, pushed open the office door and slipped inside, leaning against it as it swung closed.

He smiled at you and held up a finger, indicating he would be just another minute. He grabbed a pen from the desk and jotted a couple notes on a pad of paper. After a few minutes he disconnected the call, tossed his phone on the desk and leaned against it.

You crossed the room and nestled yourself against his chest. “Is everything alright?” you asked. “When your mom said you needed to see me and it was important, I got worried.”

His arms came around your waist, hugging you tight. “No, no, everything is good,” he replied. “Bobby looked over the business plan today.”

“And?” you murmured, tilting your head back to look into Dean’s beautiful green eyes.

Dean kissed the tip of your nose, the smile on his face all the answer you needed. “He said it was unbelievable. He’s ready to sell right now. In a few weeks, that sign over the door won’t say Singer Auto Shop anymore, it will say Winchester Mechanics.”

“Really?” you grinned.

“Really,” he laughed. “Now, we’re going out to celebrate, just the two of us, before we break the good news to the rest of the family. None of this would have been possible without you, baby. None of it.”

He kissed you, soft and easy at first, but you could sense a growing intensity, a growing need just bubbling below the surface. It was a need you shared, a need you understood. You’d felt it everyday since the day you’d met him.

Dean pulled away first, a mischievous look on his face. “Later,” he said, that one word filled with so much promise it made you ache low in the pit of your stomach.

“Later,” you exhaled.

* * *

You both had too much to drink, too much being enough that Dean called a cab to take you home from the restaurant. You kept giggling as you tried to unlock the front door and you dropped the keys twice. Of course, it didn’t help that Dean’s hands were on your waist and his lips were wrapped around your earlobe, sucking it gently. You finally got the door open on your third try and the two of you stumbled inside.

You’d barely kicked off your shoes and dropped your purse before Dean was all over you, pushing you up against the wall, his hands on the back of your thighs, grabbing the hem of your dress and pulling it up above your waist. He cupped your sex, rubbing you through the soft cotton underwear you were wearing, making you instantly damp. He kissed your neck, stopping to suck at your collarbone, though he was careful not to leave a mark. When he dropped to his knees in front of you and hooked his fingers in your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs, you moaned obscenely. Your knees went weak when he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh.

He fisted his hand in your dress, holding it above your waist, his head between your legs. He brushed his lips over you, his tongue darting out every couple of seconds to softly lick at the warmth pooling there. You squirmed, wanting his mouth everywhere at once. He pushed open your legs, pulling one of them over his shoulder, his tongue flicking out to lap at your entrance. 

“Dean,” you gasped.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and slid his tongue inside you, growling low in the back of his throat as your taste flooded his mouth. Your head fell back against the wall as your husband worked you over with just his mouth, taking you to heights only he was capable of taking you to, heights he was always able to get you to reach. You wrapped your hand around the back of his head, letting Dean hold you up, letting him do whatever he wanted.

“Not good enough,” Dean grumbled. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbed you around the waist, moved you a few steps and lowered you to the stairs, shoving your dress up and out of his way before sprawling out across the floor and burying his head between your legs, his tongue and his fingers delving deep inside you.

You almost came right then and there, a rush of heat flooding your alcohol soaked senses and taking you over. Your back arched, your hands scrambled for purchase on the stairs, and your brain turned off, turning you into a mass of emotions. Dean’s fingers curled, brushing over your sweet spot, over and over, drawing long keening sounds out of you, every part of you quivering with the insane need to let go.

Dean slid forward, fucking you, three fingers deep, tongue and mouth sucking and licking every part of you, pushing you toward your ultimate release. You came hard, every nerve ending alight with pleasure, the keening changing to a loud scream of your husband’s name as the orgasm rocked you. Wave after wave rolled through you, almost too intense to handle. You clawed at Dean’s shoulders, desperately trying to ground yourself before you exploded.

Your thighs were soaked with the evidence of your orgasm, Dean’s face slick with it as he pushed himself to his knees and loosened his belt and opened his pants, freeing himself. He took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took your hand and both of you rose to your feet. You pushed his hand away and took a hold of him, wanting to touch him, wanting to feel the soft skin sliding through your fist.

“Bedroom?” Dean grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head as you slid your hand up and down his hard shaft.

“No,” you gasped. “No, I need you, now, right now.” 

Dean nodded and picked you up, holding you against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He lowered you onto his throbbing cock, filling you completely. You pushed his flannel off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, grabbing his arms and holding on for dear life as he repeatedly slammed into you, every thrust perfectly placed to elicit the most pleasure.

“Jesus, baby,” Dean growled. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back so he could assault your neck, caution now thrown to the wind as he nipped and sucked dark marks across your collarbone and shoulders.

You felt like you were on fire, your breath was tearing in and out of your throat as Dean moved faster, every tilt of his hips burying his cock deeper inside you, his bicep muscles bulging as he held you against the wall, completely consumed by emotions you didn’t want to fight or control. Both of you groaned as another orgasm sped through you, your walls clenching around Dean, milking his orgasm from him. 

When it was over, Dean held you against the wall for a few seconds, kissing you. Once you had your legs back under you - albeit shakily under you - you wrapped your arms around your husband’s neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“That was fucking amazing,” you giggled.

“Yeah?” Dean smirked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, pulling Dean back down to kiss him again. “I think I’m ready for the bedroom now.” Your hand drifted down his stomach, your lips on his neck. “I think I owe you -”

He groaned into your mouth as you wiggled against him, one hand sliding into the back of his jeans to squeeze his ass and the other up under his shirt, your fingers brushing across his nipple. 

“Bedroom it is,” he growled, throwing you over his shoulder, turning and sprinting up the stairs.


End file.
